workpeople his
relations were the most friendly, and he was as active as he had ever
been before in trying to better their condition. A wider field was open
for his philanthropic energies. Lancashire was then the scene of
diligent social efforts of all kinds. Mr. Greg was an energetic member
of the circle at Manchester (Richard Cobden was another) which at this
time pushed on educational, sanitary, and political improvements all
over that important district. He fully shared the new spirit of
independence and self-assertion that began to animate the commercial and
manufacturing classes in the north of England at the time of the Reform
Bill. It took a still more definite and resolute shape in the great
struggle ten years later for the repeal of the Corn Laws. 'It is among
these classes,' he said, in a speech in 1841, 'that the onward movements
of society have generally had their origin. It is among them that new
discoveries in political and moral science have invariably found the
readiest acceptance; and the cause of Peace, Civilisation, and sound
National Morality has been more indebted to their humble but
enterprising labours, than to the measures of the most sagacious
statesman, or the teachings of the wisest moralist.'

In 1835 Mr. Greg married the daughter of Dr. Henry, an eminent physician
in Manchester, and honourably known to the wider world of science by
contributions to the chemistry of gases that were in their day both
ingenious and useful. Two years after his marriage he offered himself as
a candidate for the parliamentary representation of Lancaster. He was
much too scrupulous for that exceedingly disreputable borough, and was
beaten by a great majority. In 1841 the health of his wife made it
desirable to seek a purer air than that of the factory district, and in
the spring of 1842 they settled in a charming spot at the foot of
Wansfell--the hill that rises to the southeast above Ambleside, and was
sung by Wordsworth in one of his latest sonnets:--

Wansfell! this household has a favoured lot,
Living with liberty on thee to gaze,
To watch while morn first crowns thee with her rays:
Or when along thy breast securely float
Evening's angelic clouds....
When we are gone
From every object dear to mortal sight,
As soon we shall be, may these words attest
How oft, to elevate our spirits, shone
Thy visionary majesties of light,
How in thy pens